


In the Den

by maybeeatspaghetti



Series: Shameless Whizzvin Smut [1]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Marvin (Falsettos), Dry Humping, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Whizzer Brown, Trina finds out, Whizzer reflects on his relationship with Marvin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25278991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeeatspaghetti/pseuds/maybeeatspaghetti
Summary: Trina finds them in the den, Whizzer stuck in Marvin's ass.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: Shameless Whizzvin Smut [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850437
Kudos: 68





	In the Den

Whizzer was horny, like he so often was when he was around Marvin. They had been making out on the floor, Whizzer sitting in Marvin’s lap, Marvin’s back against the couch, but now Whizzer was worked up and horny. He rocked his hips against Marvin’s, feeling his body respond to the friction, and feeling Marvin’s body do the same.

“Again?” Marvin mumbled against Whizzer’s lips. They’d already had sex once earlier that day, when Whizzer had arrived at Marvin’s apartment, jumping him the moment he was over the threshold. 

“If you don’t want to, tell me now,” Whizzer said, keeping up a slow, but persistent rhythm, every movement sending a crippling shockwave through his body.

“You’re insatiable,” Marvin managed to get out, but didn’t tell him to stop. Might as well make the most of their shared day off, he supposed. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Trina wouldn’t be home for three hours, at least. They had plenty of time.

“Just for you. Please me. Make me feel good.”

Marvin gripped Whizzer’s hips and stilled his movements. 

Whizzer looked at Marvin through heavy-lidded eyes. “Yeah?” 

Marvin didn’t answer. He palmed Whizzer through his jeans, which made Whizzer’s eyes roll back in his head. Marvin then shifted from where he had been sitting on the floor, back against the couch, and lay supine on the rug, Whizzer now sitting on his hips. He let his knees drop open in invitation and Whizzer climbed off him and settled between them, holding himself up over Marvin. He ground down and started rocking in a gentle rhythm. Whizzer kept this up for quite some time—it probably felt much longer than it had actually been—and Marvin was edging closer and closer, the friction of his and Whizzer’s jeans rubbing together becoming all too much but at the same time not enough, and suddenly he needed more. He pushed Whizzer away and begged him to just do it. Right there. On the floor. He didn’t think he could make it to the bed. 

Whizzer pulled off both their clothes from the waist down and flung them aside, and before Marvin knew it, Whizzer was dousing his fingers in lube and working two fingers inside him. By the time he was up to three, he was keeping up a slow but steady rhythm that made Marvin cry with want. When Whizzer finally removed his fingers and pushed into him, it was so slow it was agonizing. Whizzer was flushed and gasping and the combination of seeing him and feeling so much meant that it took only a few minutes before Marvin was teetering precariously on the edge. 

Whizzer was thrusting slowly, but Marvin’s orgasm was approaching faster and faster and he was desperate for release. His hand found himself and gripped the base of his cock to allow an orgasm but prevent ejaculation. He’d been practicing. He was getting closer and closer, and one good squeeze did exactly what he hoped: it sent him arching off the floor, crying out as waves upon waves of pleasure coursed through him, but he didn’t ejaculate. Whizzer had stopped moving, but was still inside him, and Marvin was clenching around him again and again and again as the waves of his orgasm continued and then subsided as quickly as they’d come. As he came down from his high, he became aware of his surroundings once again. Whizzer was breathing shallowly and digging his fingers into Marvin’s thighs so tightly his knuckles were white in an effort to stay still. Marvin knew how he felt. When you were so, _so_ close to coming, it took all your effort not to move.

“You can move,” Marvin managed to croak.

“I don’t want to,” Whizzer said, groaning as Marvin deliberately clenched around him. “Keep doing that. I think I can come just like this.”

“I want you to move,” Marvin said, and started lifting and lowering his own hips, moving ever so slightly. Whizzer’s eyes glazed over and gave in, but only with minute thrusts that were barely noticeable on Marvin’s end. So Marvin, still hard and wanting a full release, suddenly pulled away. Whizzer whimpered involuntarily as he lost contact with his lover.

“What are you doing?”

Marvin pushed Whizzer onto his back and straddled him. He guided Whizzer back inside him and started up his own rhythm, bouncing and clenching, just teasing, before sitting all the way down and gyrating his hips. He ground in circles, over and over, and he was already close to a second orgasm when he decided he didn’t want to wait any longer and started bouncing up and down more urgently. He changed the angle just enough to hit _that_ spot, which made him gasp and cry out every time he came down.

“I’m going to come again,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Whizzer sat up, throwing Marvin off-balance, and flipped him over on all fours. Whizzer gathered him tightly to him, wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him in place, and entered him again. He wasn’t going slowly anymore—he was thrusting with vigor. They were having sex—real, raw sex—and they were so damn close, both of them, when the light in the den flicked on and Trina stood in the doorway, mouth open, sudden witness to the groans and moans of her husband and his friend. The shock sent Marvin over the edge and he gave a strangled cry and came again, his wife watching as he orgasmed, Whizzer’s cock up his ass. He wrapped a hand around himself out of habit and lurched forward and then back again as a second wave of pleasure rushed through him, no doubt soiling the rug he was kneeling on. But he could hardly think about the rug when Whizzer was still inside him, still stimulating that spot, which was now almost painful for Whizzer’s cock to be pressing against. Marvin bent forward again, pushing his forehead into the rug to relieve some of the pressure on his over-stimulated prostate. 

His sudden movement forward threw a very specific pressure on Whizzer’s cock. That pressure, plus Marvin’s second orgasm, was too much. Far too much. Even though he tried to stop his orgasm, knowing he shouldn’t with Trina watching, it was a freight train that was still barreling toward the station no matter how many times he tried to slam on the breaks, and he came inside Marvin with a throaty moan. He shuddered, convulsing over and over on Marvin’s sweaty back, hugging him tightly. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, his hands roaming all over Marvin’s body, completely forgetting Marvin’s wife was standing there, mouth open in horror.

Marvin pulled away frantically and Whizzer slipped out of him, the post-orgasmic haze still clouding his brain. He slumped against the couch and was barely aware of the fact that Marvin had thrown on his jeans and was trying to talk to a sobbing Trina outside the room. They had blown it, Whizzer thought. They had really blown it this time. And not in a good way. Trina had been so close to catching them on so many other occasions, but somehow they had always escaped discovery. But now she had found them, and in a very compromising position that could, in absolutely no way, be spun to be anything other than it was, and Whizzer knew he had to get out of there. He struggled to his feet and pulled his clothes on. He slipped out of the apartment and into the cool New York night without Marvin or Trina noticing. They were too busy crying and shouting. Well, Trina was crying and Marvin was shouting. Marvin was always shouting.

God, it was hard sometimes, to love Marvin. Marvin, who insisted on having a perfect family _and_ a lover but refused to choose one over the other. Now that Trina knew, he would have to make a choice. He wondered what Marvin’s choice would be. He wondered if Marvin loved him. And he wondered how he would feel if Marvin did, or didn’t, love him. He went home and climbed into bed. But he didn’t sleep. He stayed awake, awaiting a phone call, or a knock at the door—awaiting Marvin’s decision. He wondered what Marvin would do. 

He wondered and waited, the night slowly turning to day, and Whizzer still hadn’t slept. He was about to give into sleep when there was a knock at the door.

A knock. A decision. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled to the door. He opened it cautiously. 

Marvin. 

His decision. 

Marvin had chosen _him_. 

He wondered what was next. He wondered what this meant for them. There were so many questions and so few answers. Marvin looked tired and older than Whizzer had ever seen him.

“I need somewhere to stay?” Marvin said. A question. Not a statement.

Whizzer let him in and they climbed into bed together. As he drifted off, Whizzer was sure he felt Marvin press a kiss to his hairline. He had no idea what he was doing, but surely it couldn’t get any worse.


End file.
